


Baby did a bad, bad thing

by whoistorule



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoistorule/pseuds/whoistorule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon/Alys, implications of Theon/Robb, Modern Au (Fic for the RP <a href="http://bloodandglory-rp.tumblr.com">Blood and Glory</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby did a bad, bad thing

The air outside is thick with snow, and in her jumper and skirt, Alys is wavering like a leaf but determination (well, that and a lack of a key card) keeps her there, propped against the wall, waiting. 

She lets the first boy pass, he's skinny and sniffling with red-brown hair and Alys is fishing for something bigger. However, 10 more minutes of the cold leaves her drenched and shaking, snow matting her hair into icy dreads, her lips puffed and chapped from the cold, so when a boy comes out of the building, hands dug deep into the pockets of his coat, sandy brown hair poking out from under a cap, and she smiles, fluffing jittering fingers through her icy hair. "H-hey," she says, mustering up a half-smile, "got a fag?"

He did, as it turned out, lit it for her and everything, taking one out of his own, as well. He'd come out for a cigarette, as it turns out, was waiting for the parents of a friend to take him back to theirs for the holiday. Alys felt herself warming beside the boy, Theon, his name was, the heat of his body and his thick jacket warming her. They never quite get to why she's there, outside in the cold, their mouths otherwise preoccupied, breathing clouds of puffy smoke. 

When their cigarettes are done, just smoldering ash staining the white snow, Theon looks her up and down, his bright blue eyes taking in the sorry state of her shivering body, and invites her in to warm up. He pulls her into the stairwell, hiding her forbidden female presence from wandering authority, and up into his deserted dorm room, tossing a red jumper at her. 

"Here," he mutters, "you look frozen." 

Alys takes the jumper, her eyes falling on the neatly printed "R. Stark" on the label, clearly the handiwork of an attentive mother, and pulls of her own sweater. The damp of the fabric has seeped into the camisole underneath, and as she tugs up her jumper, the camisole comes too, leaving her naked, but for her bra, and chattering. 

Theon eyes her with casual curiosity, as if he wanted to be interested but couldn't quite muster up the energy, and that spurs a sort jealousy in her. She was Alys Karstark, sixth prettiest girl at Benenden according to the gossip, and she was standing in her skivvies in front of a perfectly attractive Eton boy, and he couldn't at least nod in approval? Well that simply would not do.

Stepping out of her boots, Alys neatly tugs down her woolen tights, and strips off her skirt, then pulls the red jumper over her head. It's long in the arms and hands just past her waist, but the chest is tight and she can feel herself warming already. 

He takes in the sight of her, pale limbs sticking out of the bright red sweater, her eyes bright, snow melting in her hair, and Alys can see interest peaking there. At least he can't stop staring at her in the sweater. 

Crossing the room suddenly, Theon pins her to the wall, her lips meet hers in a savage kiss, all teeth and tongue, and fury. Alys has never been kissed like this, all full of wanting and need, and she kisses him back, matching his fervor with one of her own, wrapping her legs around his waist as he lifted her up against the wall. Her arms fold around his neck as he thrusts against her, his mouth at her neck now, sucking a hard purple bruise to her collarbone. 

Alys unwraps herself from his body, her feet touching lightly against the ground, then pushes him encouragingly against the nearest bed, not caring to find out if it's his. He fumbles with the cabinet on the nightstand next to the bed, drawing out a condom as Alys pulled hastily at his belt buckle, sliding his trousers down below his waist.

Theon's hand at her wrist stops Alys from pulling the red jumper off her body. "No," he mumbles hoarsely, "leave it on." Shrugging, she tugs down her panties as Theon gropes at his waistband, drawing out his hardening cock. 

Alys blushes, it's the first time she's been like this with a boy in broad daylight, usually it's stolen moments in dark places where everything's a little vague, but isn't going to let herself be defeated by a little sunlight. Bending over him, she draws him slowly into her mouth as he tears open the condom with his teeth, his hands twisting roughly in Alys's hair. 

Theon yanks at her hair, and she looks up, taking the condom from him as she slides her mouth off of him. The condom glides easily down his cock, and Theon flips over her, his stomach taut against her back, his erection pressing against her cunt. Flexing to him, Theon enters her, his cock thrusting into her again and again until he spends, collapsing like a rag doll onto the checkered sheets. Glaring at him, Alys brings her fingers to her clit, working at it in circular movements until her own release came, and she collapses, too. 

The rhythms of their breath are equally ragged, but out of sync, filling the empty room with pants and sighs. When it calms, Alys sits up suddenly, stripping off the red jumper. "I should go," she mutters, "my dad and my brother are probably looking for me." Alys glances at Theon, hoping for some sort of acknowledgement of her existence, some sort of general interest in her personhood, but he merely shrugs, his interest in her discarded with the sweater. 

Alys pulls on her soggy tights and rumpled skirt, her soggy camisole and damp jumper, and steps back into her boots.

"Well, nice to meet you then," she says, and he nods in response, apparently lost in thought. 

Pulling the door closed behind her, Alys can't help but wonder, who the hell was R. Stark?


End file.
